Page 18 of The Time of My Afterlife

‘We could be here awhile,’ groans another customer, staring up at our menu board. ‘I’m starving, and your toasties are calling out to me.’

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Laura quickly glancing at her phone screen. The corners of her mouth are curving into a smile, and her eyes have widened. At first, I feel the prickle of irritation as we’re busy, but then it changes into a little twinge of envy. I wish someone would message me all the time. Maybe once Chris and I meet each other and fall in love, I’ll be the one in the café deluged by romantic texts? My mind reminds me that I must pass the afterlife’s test before I can get carried away with Chris and our idyllic future together. An uncomfortable feeling passes through me, so I return to making my customer’s order and block out the image of Clark’s annoying face.

Laura has been checking her phone all morning. It’s lunchtime, and my temper is starting to fray. ‘Can you put your phone away? We’re busy, and I need your support.’

She apologises profusely and goes into the kitchen to slide her phone into her bag.

The signal fault has been repaired, and the café is now enjoying a much-needed quieter period. I’m in the kitchen, staring at my whiteboard. To pass the test, I must do something from my list – ask Molly if she wants a Saturday job. I squeeze the marker in my hand like it is a stress toy. This feels uncomfortable, as I haven’t given the idea a good twelve months’ contemplation. Glancing at the clock and then back at the board, I review my list to see if there’s anything else I can do in the next couple of hours. There’s no way I can lose half a stone in that time, nor can I sort out my bathroom mould issue. Nope. I need to ask Molly.

I take a deep breath. ‘I need to pass the test for Mum.’

My hands feel clammy. Why does this feel so difficult? I reassure myself that Molly will be great, and it will also help improve relations with Laura.

Laura comes into the kitchen. ‘Two cheese toasties, Florence.’

I nod, and as she turns on her heel, I call out. ‘Would Molly like to earn some extra money and help us on a Saturday?’

She beams and gestures to the board. ‘I saw your idea earlier. That would be great,’ she replies. ‘Maybe this will make Molly smile? She was very stroppy yesterday after I finished work and we had a huge argument.’ Hearing her say this makes me think back to last night, to the sounds of Jane shouting at Jack drifting through the wall. At one point, I heard him shout that he didn’t like a mum who was always sad. I went to bed feeling crappy about not going over to ask Jane if she was okay when she was crying in her car.

‘When Molly comes in, I’ll ask her,’ I say, as relief floods through me. That wasn’t too hard.

After making the toasties, I carry them out, and when I return to the counter, Mum is smiling at me. The sight of her makes me open my arms and pull her into an unexpected hug. If I had died, I would never have been able to do this again. Closing my eyes I inhale her floral perfume and try not to cry.

‘Florence, what has come over you?’ she exclaims as I release her. ‘Careful, you’ll mess up my hair. I have had it cut.’ She touches her shoulder-length blonde hair. ‘Steve likes it layered. Thought I would pop in for a coffee and see how my favourite daughter is doing?’

Steve, from the snooker hall, keeps cropping up in more conversations. Now she’s getting her hair cut to please him. An uncomfortable feeling passes through me. ‘Take a seat, Mum. I’ll be over in a sec.’

I glance at Dad’s photo on the notice board, and my heart lets out a series of aches. ‘You weren’t supposed to leave us, Dad,’ I silently say to him. ‘You should still be here with Mum and me. Steve wouldn’t be in her life, and I wouldn’t have to be worried about her all the time.’

I take Mum her latte. She fiddles with her large gold hoop earring as I place it in front of her. ‘Did I tell you about Steve booking a holiday to Tenerife?’ she says. ‘The big question is – will he want to go all-inclusive?’

As she tells me about how Steve loves self-catering on holiday but fancies a change as he likes the idea of someone doing all the cooking, I glance back at Dad’s photo. My eyes become watery, and everything goes blurry.

‘What would you say, Florence, if I told you I was thinking of going with him?’

Her words make me jolt with shock. ‘What?’

I turn back to her as she touches her hair.

She casts me a coy smile. ‘I’m thinking of going with Steve.’

Her smile fades as I shake my head. She knows my thoughts about Steve. ‘Do you think it’s a bit soon to be going on holiday with a man you’ve just met? Dad has only been gone three years.’

She blinks. ‘Steve and I are just friends. Don’t worry, there’s nothing romantic going on.’

I need to think fast. ‘You and Dad went to Tenerife a lot, and you claimed you didn’t like it.’

‘You’re right,’ she says. ‘I’ve been to Tenerife loads of times. I don’t need to go with Steve.’ She lets out a nervous laugh. ‘He’s bought an interesting pair of swimming trunks. I wouldn’t know where to look if he strutted out in those around the pool. No, I will stay here.’

Oh, God, he’s been showing her his Speedos. ‘Mum,’ I say, picking my words carefully. ‘Steve sounds weird.’

She drinks her latte, and I listen to her talk about how big the house feels now that my younger brother has emigrated to Australia. Once she’s finished, we say goodbye, and she heads off. She stands outside the café, and I watch her pause to look up the street towards the snooker hall. ‘Don’t go and see Steve,’ I say under my breath, trying to telepathically reach my mother. To my dismay, she walks in that direction.

‘Everything all right?’ Laura asks.

‘It will be once my mother comes to her senses.’

Laura smiles. ‘She’s a grown woman, Florence. Let her live her life.’